Life lessons and pasta at the Arizona Monster 300 aid station

We were walking at night when I started to see the trail markings. We were just outside of Oracle, AZ and continued our hike north on the AZT, but now the trail was clearly marked for an upcoming trail run. One of our trail friends pointed out, «This must be for 100 km or something.»

We followed the race markings, small ribbons attached to branches, for several days before we finally reached a road and had service. We Googled what the race was and saw that we had been walking the course of the Arizona Monster 300. Not «a 100K race or something.» A 300 mile trail race primarily on the AZT, and would begin in just a few days.

Bumblebee and I are trail runners. She is an experienced trail runner, having run several ultras, while I am more of a beginner. I was on the team for one of their races and I like to run casually on the trails around my home in Colorado a couple times a week. When we realized we were headed for such a big race, we quickly came up with a plan to get involved. We researched the course map and did some math to determine which aid station we would be closest to once the race started, and then we emailed the volunteer coordinator, Brian, to ask if we could show up at the aid station and volunteer. Brian was excited. He offered to stock the aid station with everything we needed for our hike and said we could use the ones he passed us to get water and snacks while we hiked. The energy was HIGH.

We walked to the Gila River aid station around 3 pm on day 1 of the race. Our aid station was 45 kilometers into the race. It required the runners (and Bumblebee and I) to cross the Gila River to reach the aid station that was set up on the bank on the other side. We spent the first few hours preparing all the usual aid station supplies and meeting the amazing team of volunteers there. I was quickly surprised by how friendly and kind the other volunteers were. The runners left the start line at noon and we all had in the back of our minds that the heat could really affect some of the runners. What followed was nothing short of brutal.

The first couple of runners arrived around 5:45 pm We noticed that it seemed like most of the runners were already incredibly dehydrated and experiencing symptoms potentially related to heat exhaustion. Almost all runners arrived at the aid station feeling lethargic, thirsty and already tired. We realized very quickly that it was going to be an intense experience at the aid station.

Bumblebee and I spent the next nine hours running around frantically helping the runners. Many of them were struggling with different problems: blisters, dehydration, equipment failure, low morale, etc. We later joked that we felt like nurses, waitresses, and therapists all at once. We were filling water bladders, retrieving food, answering questions, and generally just standing around helping however we could all night and into the next morning.

Throughout the night we saw incredible moments of perseverance. We watched as countless exhausted runners got up and left to resume the battle. There were runners who spent hours on cots, vomiting or sleeping or both, and finally got up and continued running. Every time this happened I was surprised, but I probably shouldn’t have been. You see, I learned a lot about trail runners during those hours I spent with them on the banks of the Gila.

I knew that people who ran ultramarathons were hardcore. The nature of these races appeals to a brave person, but it still feels very strange to see it unfold in person. It’s easy to say «someone who signs up to run 300 miles must be really badass.» But then you see them doing it. You see a woman enter the aid station with toilet paper covered with a bloody nose, chatting happily with other runners, and you realize what it looks like in real life to be «hardcore.» You watch a man vomit for hours and lie on a cot with intense muscle cramps, finally get up and start running again. Their resilience is truly inspiring.

You can find resilience anywhere if you look for it. I bet you can think of someone in your daily life who models it, someone who *just keeps trying*. I see it all the time in my job as a teacher, when my students struggle with something and keep trying anyway. In Early Childhood Education we even test the resilience of the students. We know, in our field, that our students will need to be resilient to be successful, and so we measure this through a series of assessments. We know it is important. I think my experience at that aid station showed me why I find ultrarunners so inspiring: their resilience shows up again and again, in a space I love: the trail.

I’ve heard people sensationalize these big races by saying things like “these people are crazy” or “it’s not healthy to run that far!” These feelings don’t value resilience like I do. Even showing up to run a race like this means showing up to show your value. They are signing up to publicly recover, adapt and move on. I think that’s really beautiful and we should value it and encourage people who willingly show their tenacity. It’s a special experience to witness that side of people so openly, and I appreciate getting to know these runners during such a challenging part of the race.

For everyone who left the aid station with us, I saw their courage and strength, no matter how many miles they ran. You signed up, which was already brave. Then you trained, showed up and took it all out. These are all wins in my book. Congratulations.

When the last runner arrived, we helped clean up for a while and then it was time to put our hiking hats back on. We had taken a short nap between 3am and 5am, and now it was time to put in some miles. He had eaten much of his food, especially the pasta. We waved to the other volunteers and walked away. While the runners ran south on the AZT, we continued our walk north. We took our phones out of airplane mode to receive updates on the race practically every two hours for the next few days.

We were very interested as we continued our walk. Bumblebee would show me his phone and say something like, «This is the guy I helped fix his pole with Leukotape! Look, he’s still running!» Then I’d show him a race post and say something like, «Look! I gave this guy some of my salt and he made it to the next station.» We felt very connected to them and really wanted to stay involved in some way. There were a lot of comments: «Do you remember this lady? Did you buy her a cup of pasta?» The race updates really took over the next few days of hiking for us. I don’t think any of the runners knew it, but as they ran south, they had two northbound hikers supporting them every step of the way.

There are some very clear connections between trail running and hiking. Obviously we all love to hit the trail and eat lots of candy, but I was thinking a lot about those runners as we walked. We knew very intimately the path these runners were going to take, after all, we had been walking it for the past 3 weeks. I felt that because of that, we offered an encouraging and supportive energy that they (hopefully) benefited from. We know blisters, dehydration, snakes and exhaustion. We know the AZT is no joke and we have a special respect for these racers due to our own experience on the track. To all the racers who lined up for the Arizona Monster 300, the trail lover in me honors the trail lover in you. Happy trails.

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